


Till The End Of The Universe And Time Itself, He Could Stay With Her.

by meega



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: After The Name Of The Doctor, F/M, Fluff, doctor worries, hurt clara, whoffle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meega/pseuds/meega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there :)<br/>So, you've clicked on my fic, good for you! Now, what you're about  to read is just something that came to me in the middle of the night, something I wrote on my phone, in the dark and half asleep, so please don't take it too serious of something.<br/>now, this is my first Doctor Who fic, so I'm not so sure about it, but oh well, here goes nothing...</p>
    </blockquote>





	Till The End Of The Universe And Time Itself, He Could Stay With Her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there :)  
> So, you've clicked on my fic, good for you! Now, what you're about to read is just something that came to me in the middle of the night, something I wrote on my phone, in the dark and half asleep, so please don't take it too serious of something.  
> now, this is my first Doctor Who fic, so I'm not so sure about it, but oh well, here goes nothing...

After she fainted Clara's head started to throb. About a bazillion images swooshed through her mind in a matter of seconds. Thoughts, ideas, voices and memories all crumpled inside her brain. All trying to get her attention at the same time. Truth be told? Clara felt as if she was back in her classroom but instead of her regular 20-ish students she had a stadium full of kids asking her questions. She couldn’t focus. As soon as she tried, pain flooded her whole body as if it was burning up slowly. She felt she had a supernova in her chest and it was exploding, slowly, steadily and forever. The pain was unbearable. She felt like she was falling to pieces. But she hold on. She hold on tight. She wasn’t about to die just when she finally understood why the Doctor looked at her like she was some kind of Sherlock-Holmes-worthy-of mystery.

But it hurt. It hurt so much. All that knowledge. All those lives. She had lived them all, just to save him. That seemed to be her sole purpose in life. To split into millions of echoes of herself and save the Doctor. Save him, time and time again. Unnoticed. Uncredited. Time and time again, meeting him or simply seeing him and realizing _'this is the man I’m supposed to save’_.

She remembered the moments leading up to those meetings too. Her whole lives. Growing up in Gallifrey. In earth. The early 60’s. End of the 20’s. Middle of the 80’s. Victorian London. Future London. The Alaska. The mountains of Gallifrey. The two suns. Francesca and Digby. And a million other details all scrambled around in her tinny tiny human brain. She felt as if she was going to burst into pure fire if she kept on remembering.

But she could not stop. She could not control it. The thought just came. She tried not to concentrate. Tried to keep herself from exploding. Then she heard it.

 A murmur. A whisper. The cry of a desperate man who was about to lose something oh so dear to him.

_Oh Clara. My Clara._

She heard him.

 _Clara pleases. Wake up. Just wake up. You can do it. I know you can. C'mon you impossible girl. Come back to me. C'mon Clara_.

At first she couldn’t even make out what he was saying but then, as she focused on his voice instead of the memories, it started to clear. And the pain subsided. Bit by bit. Until she regained consciousness, she could feel a world swirling around her; she could feel her body, more or less. She tried to open her eyes, to sign him, to tell him _I’m alright Doctor, don’t worry._ But her voice didn’t work, and she barely had the strength to stay conscious.

Concentrating on his voice, his words, made the pain subside, Clara realized.  Now it just felt like she had just drank a mouthful of pure fire instead of the supernova exploding. _That’s good_ she thought. She tried opening her eyes again, this time, they worked. She was surprised, to be honest, because she was so tired. Tired of holding all her pieces together, all her lives.

But her eyes open and the first thing she managed to focus them on is a chin. She saw it moving, up and down. The movement calming her as it matched the voice she was still hearing.

"Clara looks at me, up here. Look me in the eyes and tell me what’s going on?"

He sounded desperate. Not something very usual. Clara didn’t like it, _since when does the Doctor ask her what was going on? That was her job._ She looked up and tried to speak. Nothing came out but a croak-like sound. She tried again.

"I’m... I’m remembering" she managed to get out "All those lives... they’re givin’ me... headache"

She wasn’t sure the doctor could even hear her. After all, her words were no more than a whisper.

"I’m... slipping back... help... me... chin boy" she manages out as she feels unconsciousness pulling at her. The memories, once again, feeling more real than the real world.

"No Clara, you have to concentrate. Concentrate on my voice. Come back to me. Don’t slip away. If you do you’ll never come back. Please try. I know you can do this Clara. You’re my impossible girl. You can do this, just concentrate"

It felt like his voice was a hand reaching out to her. Pulling her out of this pit full of memories that was consuming her like wildfire. She started regaining her consciousness once again. She could feel the Doctor’s hands, caressing her face, every inch of it, desperately. He was tugging at her arms. Feeling her forehead like he was taking her temperature.

She opened her eyes and saw his face mere inches from her own. His eyes, those big, sad, green eyes she loved with all her heart, were filled with concern and worry; he had tear stains in his cheeks. When he saw her eyes open, relief washed over him like a waterfall. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Clara could feel the pain and the memories decreasing with every touch, every caressing, every contact from his skin to hers. But she needed more. She could feel herself slipping back any minute now. She didn’t understand why but she needed his touch to reassure her _This was her life. Not the others. This was real. The others were mere echoes. She was living here and now. With her Doctor._

She tried to concentrate but for some reason the doctor had gone silent. That didn’t help. She concentrated instead on her surroundings. The cold metal floor under her palms and the rusty copper smell in the cool air told her she was in the TARDIS. How did she get here? The doctor must have carried her.

She felt as he touched her. Caressed her arms, cupped her face in his calloused hands, kissed her cheeks, everything just to assure her he was here. He was real.

With every touch the pain subsided a bit. Her mind was clearer with every second that passed. She started gaining control over her muscles again. She tried to move and her hands responded. She placed one over his cheek. She’d done this action plenty of times before but now it seemed to cost her all of her energy. She realized she was sweating and she was no longer wearing her jacket.

“That’s it, brilliant. You did it Clara. I knew you could, you know?” Clara tried to smile as she heard his voice, all full of happiness and relief and sweetness. He kissed her forehead once again, his hands still cupping her face. Her hand still on his cheek.

“What… what’s happening to me” Clara tried to sound strong, or at least stronger than she felt, she didn’t want the Doctor to think she was slipping again. She was sure she wasn’t. The memories, the pain, the voices and the thoughts, they were all gone now. Well, not _gone_ gone, but they were under control; she had control over her mind once again.

By now the pain had completely passed away being replaced by a galaxy-sized tiredness. She could feel her eyelids dropping, but this time, it wasn’t because she was slipping, but because she needed sleep.

“It’s all the lives you lived; they’re all cramped inside your head. It’s too much, you brain is too small” tried to explain the doctor.

Clara shot him a glaze and he smiled. _Idiot._

“They’re all trying to be lived at the same time. You actually lived about a hundred different lives, with a hundred different personalities and a hundred different memories in about” he checked his wrist watch and Clara smiled, she liked that wrist watch “20 seconds”

“And that’s… bad, right?” she asked, her mind felt dizzy and tired, like her head had replaced all her thoughts with cotton candy.

“Well, to tell you the truth, you should be dead by now” he said, Clara raised an eyebrow at him and he continued “all that time energy you accumulated by living, by existing so many times, it’s all trying to fit inside your brain, your human brain, which can’t possibly contain it without exploding”

“But I’m here now” she responded.

“Yes. I’m not quite clear with that either” said the Doctor looking around like the answer was written somewhere in the TARDIS’s walls but he couldn’t find it “it should be impossible”

“Well, I _am_ the impossible girl, aren’t I?” stated Clara suppressing a yawn that escaped her mouth anyways.

“You’re tired” noted the doctor “Oh, of course you’re tired. All the energy it must have taken your body to absorb, without disintegrating, all the time energy”

He helped her to her feet, one had supporting her by the waist and the other holding her hand. As they stood Clara tried to take a step towards the stairs that lead to her room but immediately, her knees buckled under her and she almost fell face first against the first step if the Doctor hadn’t been there to hold her. He immediately picked her up, bridal-style and, upon hearing the small murmur of her protest he said “you can’t possibly hope to walk, in your state, to your room. I’m taking you, end of discussion”

And so, he went up the stairs and down the infinite hallways, looking for her room. Clara was surprised; this skinny, fragile looking Doctor actually was pretty strong. Or she was very small and light. _Nah, he was strong._

 

* * *

 

“Here we are” he said as he crossed the doorway and entered the room. He had always loved this room in particular. It was completely round and paintings from all around the universe hung around the walls. There was a Van Gogh, a painting from Alfava Metraxis, another from Barcelona (the planet not the country) and even a small painting of Arcadia, Gallifrey’s second city, in all its glory, from before the war. Beside the door a small fireplace burnt red fire and a couple of bookshelves stood on either sides of the bed. A small armchair sat by the fire, warm Russian carpets covered the floor and small firefly-like lights covered the roof, placed in such order that it mimicked the night sky looked up from the earth (more exactly, from Britain, just to make Clara feel more at home). A small scale boat rested on top of one of the shelves and a record player rested over a dresser beside the fire. The TARDIS had truly outdone herself with this one. Yet another reason for the Doctor to believe her precious machine actually did like Clara, deep inside, very deep.

He heard Clara murmur something unintelligible against his chest and he smiled. Her face looked so peaceful in contrast to how she looked when he thought he had lost her. With all that time energy, he was sure she wouldn’t, she couldn’t have, but she did, she survived. Against all odds and against the laws of the universe itself she had survived. Of course only god know where all that time energy went, ‘cause it had to go somewhere, it couldn’t just vanish and it couldn’t have stored itself inside Clara’s mind, it was impossible.

 Of course, he had seen plenty of impossible things today; maybe this one was just another one to top it all.

His impossible girl.

He walked to the bed and laid her down. Her eyes where already closed and she was snoring slightly. The Doctor suppressed a giggle. _Clara snores._

He pulled the covers over her small figure and laid a kiss to her forehead. Unfortunately this woke her up. She smiled groggily up to him, her eyes almost closed.

“Hey there, Chin boy” she said.

“Hey there, Soufflé girl” he responded, bopping her funny nose and smiling. The Doctor stood up straight then turned to leave the room when Clara’s hand surprised him as she squeezed his.

“Stay” was the only word that left her mouth. Then her hand fell off of his and she pulled it towards herself placing it under her pillow, hugging it.

The Doctor did as he was told and, to pass the time he decided, he walked up to one of the shelves and picked a random book to read. He walked to the armchair, made himself comfortable and opened the book.

_The Great Gatsby._

He began reading it and, as time flew by, _so slowly_ , he might add, his eyelids began to feel heavy. _All the stuff that happened today made me tired_ he decided and, resting the book on his lap, he gave in and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Not a second had passed, or so he thought, when a scream woke him up, startled. He got to his feet even before he was fully awake and conscious, pushing the book to the floor. He turned 360°, looking for the source of the screaming. That’s when he saw her. She was sitting up straight, her mouth open, her eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Immediately the doctor ran to her side, sat down beside her and hugged her. He felt as she buried her face in his tweet, staining it with her tears as she sobbed loudly. He didn’t mind, he had about a thousand other identical tweets.

“Shh Shhh. It’s okay. Clara, you’re here, it’s okay, it was only a dream” he said as he stroke her hair and tried to calm her down.

She didn’t answer. After a few moments her sobbing decreased and she started to calm down. The doctor continued making soothing noises until she looked up at him.

“Thanks” she said, her eyes where puffed and red, her face wet with tears. The Doctor reached out and cupped her face with one hand and tried to wipe the tears with his thumb, not very successfully “-for, you know, being here”

She looked down, suddenly ashamed of the doctor seeing her like this. She felt as his hand moved from her cheek to her chin and as he delicately lifted it until they were staring into each other’s eyes “Always”

He smiled and raised his eyebrows, or the poor excuse of eyebrows he had, at her and she rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. _Why did he feel the need to be so cheesy?_

“So… you want to talk about it?” he asked warily.

“It was just… memories, still bothering me, it’s nothing really. I should go back to sleep” she said looking around the room to anything but his big twelve-year-old face. _Why did it have to be so big? It was almost impossible to avoid it._

“Clara…” the doctor strokes her hair tenderly and looked at her like she was the only thing worth seeing in the universe. She liked it when he looked at her like that. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and then said “I can stay as long as you want”

“I don’t need you to babysit me” she mumbled between pursed lips.

He smiled gently and said, matter-of-fact “it’s not babysitting”

“Then what is it?” she asked him.

That question got him, not because he knew he _was_ babysitting her and he said that just to make her feel better, but because this question seemed like _those_ kinds of questions. The one’s that contain about a million of other unspoken questions, much more deep and important than the actual question. This question seemed to be saying: _What are we doing? What are we to each other? Do you feel like I do? Are we on the same page here? What is it that we’re doing? With all the flirting and teasing?_

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  He closed it again. He saw her biting her bottom lip like she always did when she was nervous. Then, he did something he had promised himself he would never do again, something he had been trying to hide, to burry in his mind until there was no trace of it. Not with another human, at least.

He leaned in and, responding to his movement, so did she and he closed his eyes and he kissed her.

And, in that kiss, he allowed himself to, finally, fall for her. Absolutely, undeniably and unconditionally in love with her.

He knew he liked her the minute he met her. He tried to supress the felling _Oh how he had tried!_ but he couldn't deny it forever. he knew, from the first time they met, he loved her. Not the first time in the Alaska, no. The first time he met the real Clara Oswald. The original. The one that was sitting in front of him. That one, he loved with both his hearts.

 

* * *

 

It was a tender kiss, his lips where soft and a bit cracked. He didn’t even dare to kiss her for more than two seconds. _He pulled away too soon_ , thought Clara. Finally, the boy-man she had fell in love so quickly and so damn hard was kissing her, meaning he loved her, just as she loved him, but he was unsure.

And so, like in everything she did, Clara took the reins of the situation and kissed him back, passionately. She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her hands in his hair and kissed him.

She felt the surprise in his body when she kissed him back. At first, he didn’t seem to know what to do. She could feel his hands flailing around them, not knowing where to put them. Then, he seemed to recall how you were supposed to act when kissing and placed them both over her waist. It was a very light touch that sent currents of electricity through Clara’s body.

Too soon again, they parted for air and she looked into those eyes. They weren’t full of sadness anymore, even if it were for a moment; they were full of wondrous joy and delight.

“Wow” he said. Then he noticed his hands where still on Clara’s waist, immediately he pulled them away and made fists, moving his fingers in that way he always did. His look changed to insecure and surprised then.

“Wow indeed” said Clara matter-of-fact, a mischievous smile planted on her face, a small twinkle in her eye.

“Well, I should…” said the Doctor, unsure of what to say next. _The Doctor, out of words, now that’s a first._

“Stay” she finished for him. Then, feeling all tired again she patted the space next to her in the bed. The doctor looked from the bed to her and to the bed again, without comprehending.

She rolled her eyes and, pushing his fists down, she took his tweed off for him. Then, she took his hand and pulled him down with her so that her back was against his chest and his arm laid protectively over her belly, her hand over his. At the same time she did this the Doctor pulled up his feet and laid them beside Clara’s, moving so that he was lying next to her instead of over her.

He felt as her breathing evened, he watched as her chest rose and fell with every breath. He felt her pulse on her neck. He smelled her hair, some kind of vanilla shampoo.

He felt… he felt _at peace._ For the first time in years, he didn’t feel the need to move and go somewhere. His two hearts were racing though, nut that was for another reason. He felt as if he could stay like this forever.

Till the end of the universe and time itself, he could stay with her.


End file.
